


Get You Home

by Canon_Is_Relative, stardust_made



Series: The College AU [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sam, Gen, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_made/pseuds/stardust_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy gets drunk after he and Dean have an argument.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get You Home

**Author's Note:**

> As we said in the notes to chapter nine, this scene was spontaneously written while we were role playing the text exchange in the chapter. It takes place immediately after Sam's text message, "I think im might be reallly drunk".

[ ](http://s275.photobucket.com/user/Ms_Wooster/media/banner1jpg_zps25eeb5d1.jpg.html)

Dean is already out of the bar when he dials Sam’s number. Sam picks up quickly, something easing in Dean’s chest just at the sound of his voice. Dean can hear his own voice: a little urgent, a little gruff. “Sammy. Your friends there yet?"

"Yeah." Sam seems to be walking, the noise of the street going down and turning muffled—he’s probably gone into some back alley. He’d know where to go, he’d know where there won’t be any people, like by the ubiquitous delivery entrance this kind of place always has at the back.

Dean is just taking a breath to speak when Sammy mumbles, "Hang on.” There’s a horrible sound in Dean’s ear, as if someone’s crunching a wrapper near a loudspeaker. It makes Dean grimace and pull away the phone from his ear. He figures Sam must have stuffed his cell into a pocket.

Then Dean is listening to the distant sounds coming through the line, vividly putting two and two together. Sammy’s vomiting and Dean’s heart contracts with worry, some small, impish glee, and a pinch of out-of-place nostalgia. 

“Dean,” Sam says at last, faintly.

"I'm here," Dean responds immediately. "So I was right? Man, you always were such a lightweight." He forces his voice to turn strong, demanding focus. "Where are you?"

Sam groans. There is a pause before he says, the words sluggish. "Outside. Outside my bar. I should...call a cab or...yeah."

Dean's worry starts making his pulse pick up; when he speaks next, he might be coming across as a little pissed, but his tone is mostly pitched at authoritative. "Yeah, you really should. You still on your own? Go find your friends, put one of them on the phone."

The noise begins to undulate again so at least Sam’s moving. Dean begins feeling really on edge imagining Sammy on his own at the back, never mind that Dean never actually checked if that was the case. He is startled to discover he was tenser about some human scum taking advantage of a young, drunken ass than about a demon or another freak attacking his little brother. Not that Sam would be able to do much against either if he’s as trashed as Dean suspects, but maybe Dean’s started to believe that not just Sam has left the life; the life has left him too.

Or maybe he trusts that even drunk, Sam is a more adequate hunter than a college boy. 

The crunching noise is back in Dean’s ear again, weaker this time, then he hears Sammy’s distant, “S'my brother. Wants to say hi, I guess."

"Hello?"

Dean is a little taken aback to hear a woman's voice. She sounds bemused. He shakes himself off immediately, getting down to business. 

"Hey. Who is this?" He doesn't want to sound unfriendly, but his tone probably betrays someone who's been around the block enough times; sue him, he's not really prone to social niceties when he's got something important on his mind.

“Uh.” The woman—the girl? She doesn’t sound girly but she still sounds young—seems to falter, then she clears her throat. "My name's Kate, I'm one of Sam's housemates. Sam, are you...Is he okay? We just got here, I think he's...Sam, you are trashed, aren't you?" Her voice comes from a bit of a distance and Dean imagines her reaching out to steady Sam, then she’s laughing slightly over his weak protests. It sounds as if he’s trying to have his phone back.

At first something eases in Dean at her amusement—things can’t be that bad, right? But then annoyance takes him over and he is suddenly even more concerned. Who is this woman? How does he know she's not a real nasty bitch? What if she's just going to mock Sam and then leave him there alone? Okay, he’s mocked Sam more times than he could count, but it’s his damn prerogative, no one else's, no one. Because he’s also always looking out for him, even while he's talking to a hungover Sammy about licking ashtrays. 

For a moment Dean is stunned by the sweeping, profound realization about what Sam leaving has actually meant; about just how far apart they are at that moment. Physically but metaphorically, too. Despite their frequent conversations over the phone Dean knows so little about Sam’s life—he hasn’t got any idea who this woman is. Yes, he’s got some facts and figures, some names and addresses, but none of the important things. His brother is out of reach for real, and it's terrifying. 

Dean pulls himself together, the need to get this right coming on top of his priorities with mind-boggling speed.

"Hi Kate." He manages to sound casual, but still firm. "Listen, that kid needs to get home. Like, right now. Trust me, it's not going to get pretty. Can you make sure he gets into a cab? How far is your house?"

They have a quick back and forth during which Dean gets enough info and instructs her. “Jesus," she mutters, voice away from the phone but he still catches it. Just like he catches her next sentence. "He's not bossy, is he?"

There is a longish stretch of silence that makes Dean frown and press the phone to his ear to the point of digging it there. He knows the line’s still connected, because the background noise is still on, but he isn’t sure what’s happening. He’s about to say ‘Hello?’ when he hears Sam’s muffled, "Dude." There’s vague reproach in it and Dean frowns more, unsure whether Sam means it for him. 

He really wants to know his brother is on his way home. He wants Sam out of there. It’s suddenly overwhelming, becomes the only thing that matters. He squeezes the plastic in his hand so tight, it hurts. 

Sam speaks in his ear, still slurring the words a little, but it’s clear and there’s a hint of humor in his voice. "You _are_ bossy.” Before Dean can think of what to say to that, Sam adds, “‘m going home.”

Dean is so relieved to have gotten his point across that for a moment he is his own exhalation, tension dissipating with it. 

"Yeah, alright, dude. You are so going to hear about this tomorrow. Now hang up and get your lame drunk ass to your house, then call me when you get there, all right? Call me or text me, and if you think you’re going to pass out, tell your friend to call me."

Sam mumbles something that contains the letter ‘k’ in it, then hangs up. Dean looks at the display of his phone numbly for a few seconds, then slowly puts it inside his jacket pocket and heads back. Not to the bar; to his car. He’ll sit around for a bit. He’s not had near enough to drink to be dangerous, but he is definitely above the legal limit. It feels wrong to ignore that now. No one’s watching him and no one will tell, but it still feels hypocritical. He’ll wait until he makes sure Sam’s home all right.


End file.
